Surprise Baby For The Billionaire. Charlotte Hawkes

CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       CHAPTER ONE

      SHE COULDN’T HIDE away in here for ever.

      Forcing herself to open her eyes, Saskia glanced gingerly around the stark, pristine hospital bathroom, relieved to find it was no longer spinning. She’d spent more time in one of these than she cared to remember over the past three months, but for once she wasn’t here experiencing morning, afternoon, and evening sickness.

      No, this time she’d ducked in here because she’d caught a glimpse of Malachi Gunn—looking as solid, as indomitable, and as smouldering as ever—stepping out of the stairwell to her paediatric ward. Apparently her body’s fight-or-flight response had got its wires crossed and so she—the girl who was renowned for her fearless attitude and for never backing away from anything—had made a dash for the relative safety of the nearest ladies’ room.

      Not that it did any good, of course; in the end she was going to have to tell him. She had to, no matter how terrifying the idea of doing so might be. Besides, she wanted to tell him; she’d wanted to for the last few months. Desperately. She’d just been too afraid, and had no idea exactly what to say.

      Because, really, how on earth was she to tell the only one-night stand she’d ever had in her entire life that he was the father of her unborn child?

      In truth, she had been prepared to tell him both times she’d made her monthly pro bono visit to Care to Play, the centre he had set up where young carers could forget their responsibilities and burdens and simply be kids, if only for a few hours each week. But Malachi hadn’t been there since their weekend together, which in itself had set off alarm bells in her head.

      Admittedly she hadn’t been coming to the centre for long—and only once or twice each month, and only since her engagement to Andy had unravelled so spectacularly—but as far as she’d been able to tell Malachi was always there, and the kids loved him. And they weren’t the only ones—it hadn’t been long before she’d started counting down the days to her next visit.

      The fact that since their one-weekend stand he hadn’t once been at the centre at the same time she had could surely mean only one thing—he’d been deliberately avoiding her.

      It hurt more than she cared to admit.

      Even now her hand went subconsciously to her belly, where the tiniest bump was just beginning to make itself known. As though the gesture could somehow protect her precious cargo from the idea that Malachi wouldn’t want to know. And from other people who might judge her or cast aspersions.

      It shouldn’t matter, of course. Saskia knew that. But you didn’t grow up the daughter of a Tinseltown starlet without having people judging your every move. And she’d never really had as thick a skin as she’d pretended.

      Not that anyone else could even tell that she was pregnant, of course. Not even Anouk, who had been Saskia’s best friend since kindergarten and hanging out on a movie set where their rival Hollywood actress mothers had battled to out-diva each other.

      Saskia felt a fresh pang of guilt about keeping silent with the one person she had always trusted most in the world, but somehow it seemed wrong to tell other people before Malachi. It was ludicrous, really, since she wasn’t even sure he would want to know.

      Besides, work had been so busy lately, and she’d already brought enough drama into her quiet friend’s life by landing on Anouk’s doorstep, suitcases at her feet, after she’d walked out on Andy.

      Not that Anouk had ever uttered a word of complaint, of course. No, her friend had merely hugged her and then gone out and found a stunning two-bedroom apartment more suitable for them to share. Anouk had simply made it feel like an exciting new stage in the adventure on which they’d embarked over a decade earlier, when they’d boarded a plane out of the States in order to go to medical school in the UK and track down the father Anouk had never known.

      It was bizarre, the way people always seemed to consider her to be dynamic and fun whilst they viewed Anouk as reserved, even a little cold. To Saskia, Anouk was focused, loyal, gentle—all the qualities that Saskia, who hated the way she herself seemed continually to find herself in the middle of some new, unwanted drama, envied most.

      Gripping the moulded plastic sink top as she glowered at herself in the mirror, Saskia berated herself. Anouk wouldn’t be hiding out in a bathroom on the paediatric floor whilst she worked out what the heck to say to Malachi out there. Then again, wise, pragmatic Anouk would never be pregnant from a one-night stand in the first place.

      ‘Well,’ she grumbled at her reflection, ‘you are. So you’re just going to have to face the man and get on with it.’

      With a satisfied nod, Saskia pushed herself off the cold plastic and marched across the bathroom floor. Then she hesitated. Carefully, slowly, she opened the door a crack.

      And nearly fell backwards as a face loomed in the tiny gap.

      ‘Oh, Saskia...’ the voice cooed. ‘You’re not squirreling yourself away in the bathroom to avoid me, are you, babe?’

      Gritting her teeth, Saskia opened the door firmly and forced herself to step outside. Babette was one of the paediatric nurses on Saskia’s ward, and there was no way she could ever avoid the woman, however much she might want to.

      ‘No, Babette, I am most certainly not trying to avoid you.’

      Babette’s laugh was more grating than tinkling, Saskia thought, and then chided herself for being so uncharitable.

      ‘Are you sure? Only, I don’t know how I’d get myself out of bed if I were you...’

      Okay, maybe she wasn’t being uncharitable after all.

      ‘Indeed. But I’m lucky enough to have an ejector button built in under my mattress.’

      ‘Really?’

      Babette’s